


Pride and Power

by Pups3942



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Yakuza, Blood, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Drugs, Established Relationship, Guns, Killing, M/M, Mutilation, Shooting, Torture, Violence, ex-undercover officer!Iwaizumi, yakuza boss!Oikawa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-06 22:48:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20514770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pups3942/pseuds/Pups3942
Summary: Everything should be simple. Eliminate the traitor and take over the territory of the fallen Fukurodani. But when Oikawa puts feelings and emotions into consideration, getting rid of the traitor wasn't as straightforward as he thought. Iwaizumi had a terrible two years, to say that Oikawa had it rough was an understatement. Oikawa has to first learn to deal with his setbacks before thinking of bringing Seijoh to greater heights - first, he has to learn that Iwaizumi isn't who he thinks he was.





	Pride and Power

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DeathBelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathBelle/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Loyalty of a Traitor](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12429639) by [DeathBelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathBelle/pseuds/DeathBelle). 

> This is a Spinoff from "The Loyalty of a Traitor" by Deathbelle. You may proceed if you haven't read that, however you may not understand the happenings or characters in this story. The story revolves around Oikawa's struggle for power in the two years stamp when Iwaizumi left. 
> 
> Writing this was extremely stressful as Deathbelle had already created such an amazing piece of work. Most parts were re-written many times and the plot had been edited over and over as this piece was being created. So the final work actually differs quite a bit from what I had initially imagined it. I hope this spinoff does justice to the original work and I hope all of you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it! 
> 
> Again, this is my interpretation of what could have happened in the two-year gap. My purpose was to show that Oikawa had it as rough, if not worse, than Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi ran off to deal with his feelings and actions, and what was left behind was a puddle of mess for Oikawa to clean up. I believe it was a tremendous blow to the prideful Oikawa. 
> 
> Enough of my thoughts and blabbering. Scroll down to read the story. Comments are so very much welcomed. Thank you for picking up this fic to read! Enjoy :)

Everything was a blur. When he opened his eyes, his surrounding was glaring bright and the loud ringing in his ears, coupled with the immense headache forced him to close his eyes again. Then, darkness consumed him. 

The second time he opened his eyes, it was to a constant beeping noise. His headache was gone, but his vision was still fuzzy. He blinked once, then heard a couple of murmurs around him. The lights were still too bright. He closed his eyes again. And instantly, he drifted off to quietness. 

The third time he woke, his vision was clearer, and he could make out a figure sitting beside him, head bent forward and nestled in their palms. The person didn't move, that was how he knew that the person was asleep. The beeping didn't stop though, and a singular word left his lips. 

“Hajime.”

The blurry face that loomed over him cried out in shock and relief. But he didn't feel the least bit better. Because despite the unfocused view, Oikawa knew that that person was not Hajime. With that thought, Oikawa slipped back into unconsciousness. 

Unlike the previous times, Oikawa awoke to a dull ache on plaguing his right leg. He couldn't pinpoint a location where it hurts most, the tingling sensation crept throughout the limb and it was driving him crazy. The groan that left his lips definitely wasn't voluntary. 

“Oikawa?”

“Hajime.” His eyes were squeezed shut in an attempt to block out the growing pain. Even so, he knew that Hajime wasn't in the room with him. 

“Hajime. Bring him.”

There was shuffling of feet and the person cleared his throat awkwardly. “Oikawa, he hasn't been around since… Since you were brought here. Nobody has seen him either.”

Matsukawa. 

“I'll get Mizoguchi.” Matsukawa turned away from him and presumably stopped at the door where someone entered. They exchanged a few hushed words before he left the room completely. Oikawa blinked a few more times, his eyes were irritably dry, which might have been a factor causing his unfocused sight. Oikawa only wanted to focus on one priority, Hajime. 

Another figure pulled the chair beside his bed and sat down. Oikawa didn't notice as he gritted his teeth so hard that his jaw began to ache. The pain in his right leg was really becoming unbearable. The grunt that escaped his mouth was definitely not intentional. 

“I'll get that for you.”

His tightly clenched fist was pried open and something small, almost cylindrical in shape, was placed in his palms. 

“Press the button on that.” The person, no, it was Hanamaki, said. “It's morphine. It should help with the pain.”

Oikawa pushed the button, and the relief that came over was only enough to get a clearer mind. He pushed the button again. 

“Makki, at Fukurodani…” His voice trailed off. Did Hajime kill the leader of Fukurodani? He definitely remembered Hajime shooting someone at point blank. Kimura, he thought. There was a lot of shooting and screaming, Oikawa barely heard half of it before he passed out. “Is Hajime…” _Dead_. Oikawa couldn't bring himself to say the words. 

“If you're asking about Hajime’s wellbeing, he's fine I suppose.” Hanamaki explained. “He was covered in blood, but none of it appeared to be his.”

_“_Maybe you should get some rest. We can wake you when Mizoguchi comes for you.”

As Hanamaki said those words, Oikawa’s eyelids felt heavy as they drew to a close. “Makki, find him…”

“Yes Oikawa-san.”

The days were long in the ward and Oikawa insisted to recuperate back in Seijoh. Mizoguchi had other plans but Oikawa refused to listen. In less than a week after regaining consciousness, Oikawa found himself resting in his bed, with a drip on his left and a morphine pump in his hand. 

Even though he's back in the safe confines of Aoba Johsai, Oikawa was still bedridden until he was strong enough to begin his first bouts of physiotherapy if he'd like to use his right leg again. 

Still, there was no news of Hajime. Oikawa had been cheated out of many things. It was a norm in a triad. Low ranking members had stolen from him, of course that led to a foreseeable torture and eventual death. Oikawa himself had killed to the top of Seijoh. If he hadn't earned the title of becoming their _kumicho_, he definitely stole the position. 

And Hajime. Hajime had stolen his heart. 

Matsukawa and Hanamaki mostly stayed within earshot, often lounging in his office. Oikawa rather they put themselves to good use and help Yahaba search for Hajime. 

Oikawa exhaled before his opened his room door to the office. Tomorrow, he'll be getting a metal brace for his knee and he could forgo the wheelchair. It hadn't been a good look for him. And the low ranking members were beginning to talk. He popped a morphine pill and wheeled himself into the office. 

“Makki, Mattsun, round up those who talked shit about Seijoh. Don't do anything yet. I need Kyouken-chan at his best.” Oikawa said with coldness in his voice. “And while you're at it, send Yahaba up.”

The duo left with a curt, “Yes Oikawa-san!” 

He rubbed around the tender flesh of his knee and popped another pill. The sharp pain dragged on for longer than before. Oikawa remained in his office, the quietness enveloping him as was left with his thoughts. 

It was only a couple of weeks ago when Hajime promised him, their bodies entangled together, that he would never leave Oikawa’s side. And Oikawa believed him wholeheartedly. But now, he's not so sure. 

Still, the business at Aoba Johsai thrived as per every night. The crowd unaware of the triad shooting a few weeks ago that almost sent Seijoh into a state of hysteria should the leader be taken down. 

None of that happened, because Hajime promised that he'd be fine. Single handedly, Hajime left the grounds of Fukurodani, having killed the two highest most ranking of that Syndicate. 

On days like this, ache in his chest prevailed over that in his knee. Oikawa popped open the pill bottle and crushed two pills on his desk. He lined the powder, coarsely and unevenly crushed, into one thick line. Smiling bitterly to himself, he bent forward and licked up the trail of morphine dust. Mizoguchi should really give him something stronger for the pain. 

Turned out that his knee had been infected. That explained the pain and his lack of energy. 

“Should you wait for a better time?” asked Kindaichi. “Your fever-”

“Don't tell me what I can or can't do!” Oikawa snapped. “Know your place!”

‘Yes, Oikawa-san.”

Kindaichi had noticed. In fact, everybody in Seijoh had noticed. Oikawa’s state of disarray was something that couldn't be missed. His hair was disheveled, his dress shirt was not tucked and some buttons were left open, revealing a slice of his tattoos. But most of all, it was his bloodshot eyes and dark eye bags that stole the attention. 

Oikawa before the shooting would never show up with a flicker of hair out of place; and his usually composed self leaned towards violent tendencies lately. 

“Bring them forward!” 

Oikawa wiped his nose with the back of his hand as he sniffed. His face was slightly flushed and warm, but when he spoke, the room felt as though the temperature dropped ten degrees lower. 

“So you were the one spreading those disgusting rumors.”

The man, with his hands tied behind his back, knelt in front of Oikawa with his head held high. There was no trace of remorse on his face. There were at least ten other people tied up and thrown at the back of the room. Oikawa hadn't bothered with a sack over their heads. It was best that they could see clearly what was about to happen to their leader in rebellion. 

“They weren't rumors.” the man said without fear. “From what I can see, the hearsay is true. The leader of Seijoh is no longer fit to lead!”

The rage that flickered through Oikawa’s dark eyes sent chills to others in the room, all except the man he was confronting. The single crutch clicked on the floor as Oikawa moved forward. The smile on his face was sharp as it was condescending, “Oh? Then tell me, Raito-chan, who, in your eyes, is fit to lead?”

Raito spat at Oikawa’s feet and glared at his boss. 

The smile dropped completely from Oikawa’s face as he raised his crutch and swung it across Raito’s face, sending the man sprawling face first onto the floor. He raised his crutch above the betrayer’s face, his right leg barely touching the floor and his left strained to hold the position. “Oh, I'm sorry.” The empty words were nothing like the fury Oikawa radiated. “Perhaps I should help you see better!”

Without warning, Oikawa slammed the tip of his crutch through Raito’s left eye. The loud crunch when the metal hit the inside of the skull echoed in the room, and was quickly enveloped by Raito’s screaming and the wailing of the ten others, queued up for their impending torture. 

Oikawa removed his crutch from the eye socket with a squelch and Raito gurgled and tumbled over. 

He scrunched up his nose at the mess. “Oh. It seems that I've lost my temper.” said Oikawa. “Pity, he should have suffered more.”

Oikawa limped towards his desk and filled his wine glass. “Seijoh is my family. I will live and die for my brothers.” He crushed a couple of morphine pills and poured them into the glass. “Is it too much I expect the same from the members of Seijoh?”

Oikawa placed his crutch to his side as he leaned against the table, one hand snaked down to rub the soreness from his knees in the brace, the other swirled the red liquid in his glass. 

“Kyouken-chan.”

“Boss.” Oikawa didn't have to look at him to feel the sharp, wide grin from Kyoutani’s face. 

“I hope you've sharpened your fangs.” Oikawa took a sip from his glass. “Tear them apart.”

To say that the next few hours were torturable was an understatement. Oikawa, particularly, had been treated to a show like no other. 

Unfortunately for him, a morphine cocktail of alcohol didn't sit well with his fever. And Oikawa was out of commission for almost a week. Most days, it was only darkness that consumed his sleep. Some nights, Oikawa dreamt of Hajime. Mostly in his annoying voice, “Don't be stupid, Shittykawa! Recklessness should not come from you. Go and clear your head.” On nights like this, Oikawa wished he'd never wake up. At least he could find Hajime in his dreams. 

It took Yahaba five months to return with solid news on Hajime. And the first was that Watanabe Hajime had never existed. In his place, however, stood a proud officer from the Tokyo Police. The resemblance was uncanny. There was the same dark spiky hair, the deep green eyes and the horrible scowl and furrowed brows that ruined the whole look on the tanned man. 

It was without doubt that, Watanabe Hajime of Seijoh, was Iwaizumi Hajime of the police force. In other words, Hajime was a mole planted in the premises of Aoba Johsai all along. 

Oikawa felt as if the world slapped him once and backhanded his face again for good measure. Because he remembered very clearly that in the first few meetings with Hajime, he told him how much he hated moles. To think the Tokyo Police tried to sneak in undercovers riled Oikawa up to no ends. Yet, perfectly nestled by Oikawa’s side, was the dog of the Police. 

All these time, Oikawa trusted him… 

Even after all these time, Oikawa _only_ trusted him. And Hajime stole everything from him. 

“What else did you find.” Oikawa’s gaze lacked emotion and his face was cold and untelling. 

“He didn't regroup with the task force. But he doesn't look like he's in protective custody.”

Yahaba eyed over Oikawa as he poured two pills into his mouth and chewed them. It was the second time Oikawa did that since he began his report not too long ago. “Are you in pain?”

“Am I in- what the hell Yahaba?! I got my knee blown to bits, the metal braces dig into my leg when I walk, and the crutches are just-” Oikawa flung his crutch against the wall in a loud crash. He brought his hands up to brush his bangs away from his bloodshot eyes. “I'm fine, OK? The whole fucking time, I thought he died.”

Oikawa twisted his pill bottle open again, but Yahaba stopped him. “Don't.”

“Don't fucking touch me.”

Yahaba didn't let go, and Oikawa relented. “He lives alone, his landlady comes in every Thursday for collecting rent. Hajime is mostly shut in and rarely comes out. But from what I've gathered he isn't working with the Kyoto Police. His investigations are privately sourced.”

“Private eye?”

“Yes.” Yahaba handed him a scrap of paper, written in messy handwriting, was an address in Kyoto. “I watched him for at least six weeks, Oikawa. He never falls out of routine.”

Oikawa snatched the paper from Yahaba with shaky hands. The paper crumpled with the force of his grip. Yahaba was suggesting for him to eliminate the problem. Oikawa should _kill_ Hajime, like he did to all who dared trample on loyalty. 

“Oikawa-san, should I clear up his room?”

“No.” The reply came too quick, too forceful. Yahaba, however, was not as stunned as Oikawa himself. “Leave it. It wouldn’t be complete without his head hanging on the walls.” 

Yahaba only nodded. 

Oikawa’s crutch clicked against the floor as he made his way to Hajime’s room. He typed in the password and opened the door. Everything was in their place since the last time Hajime stayed here. He inhaled deeply and sighed. The room still smelled like Hajime. 

For the first time in his 29 years of life, Oikawa knew he wouldn’t be able to follow through a threat. Because, even if Hajime lied to him, Oikawa’s feelings had been real. For what he knew, the moment had been real. Hajime did mean a lot to Oikawa. 

That's why it hurts much more to know that it was he who had done it. If it was anyone else in Seijoh, the situation would be much easier to resolve. Why couldn't it be anyone else but Hajime? 

When he closed the door to Hajime’s room, Oikawa changed the pin so no other could enter. _Hajime._ The name now tasted bitter and foreign on his tongue. Oikawa scrunched his nose and shook his head. Maybe he was trying not to cry, maybe he was angry at himself for trusting a spy, perhaps he was bitter that he couldn’t kill Hajime like he was supposed to. Oikawa crushed two more pills with his teeth. 

He should have known that Yahaba would tell the elites about Hajime. Kindaichi, of all the others, blamed himself for letting a cop enter the premises of Seijoh. His ash-stricken face said it all. Kindaichi was terrified that Oikawa would punish him for his mistake with death. 

Oikawa should. But what did it matter? Kindaichi was a good underling. Even with Kindaichi dead, Hajime would still live, and Oikawa would lose a good man just in the face of spite.

“You should send me for him, Boss!” Kyoutani’s voice boomed over the others. “I’d love to see his pretty face break apart under my knives.” 

Oikawa’s stomach churned at the thought of Hajime’s blood splattered face lying on the floor, unmoved. He shouldn’t feel that way. He did anyway. 

“No one has to do anything.” Oikawa said. “Seijoh will run as it would, without Hajime.” 

Oikawa could practically hear the growl from Kyoutani from the back of his head. “It's been more than half a year since he left and Seijoh remains standing. We don't need to go knocking on enemies’ doors and looking for trouble.” Oikawa explained, his crutch long abandoned and unused in his private room, as he limped slowly across the room. “If the police had enough information to get us, they've shut us down a long time ago.”

“I don't want any stupidity from any of you.” Oikawa warned and the others around the table answered with a curt “Yes Oikawa-san!”

Kyoutani was an idiot. Oikawa should have known Kyoutani was a stubborn, absolute pain in the butt idiot. And it happened at a terrible time too. 

First, he received a call from Kunimi on the updates of the recent drug trades. Everything was going downhill. Someone had been stealing from the drug workshops. The pure stuff that Seijoh took pride in producing was not only coming up short in the recent trades for the past month, the ingredients were also substituted with impurities. It wouldn't have been an issue, but of course, given the type of luck Oikawa had these months, people had died from using these drugs. 

People die from drug abuse all the time. But definitely not from the drug reaction that occurred after minimal consumption that dissolved their stomachs. It was a horrifying and painful way to die. 

Their clientele was pissed. Especially since with the increasing body count, the police were snooping their noses deeper into Tokyo’s underground system. And with the threat of exposure and enough counts to land them a life sentence, needless to say, their clients weren't happy. 

Oikawa had been crushing his pills and mixing them with his cocktail in an attempt to soothe his headache and resolve the problem with his drug factory when Hanamaki and Matsukawa told him about Kyoutani. 

Freaking Kyoutani. Of course he would go out of his way to burst Oikawa’s veins. One day, Oikawa thought, he would die from an aneurysm from a burst blood vessel in his head than dying in inter gang wars between the syndicates. The cause, Kyoutani had been on his merry way to Kyoto to rid of the traitor - Iwaizumi Hajime. It was blatant disrespect to Oikawa. 

“Right after I said to not do anything stupid.”

“This is not stupidity, boss.” Kyoutani bit back. “This is setting things right.”

“Are my words not the law? Or are you following someone else's orders now?” Oikawa leaned back in his chair, his right leg splayed out awkwardly and his bloodshot eyes stared straight into Kyoutani’s. 

“Seijoh does not tolerate traitors!” barked Kyoutani. “Iwaizumi Hajime is a traitor through and through. Yet you don't intend to do anything?”

“I didn't say I wasn't going to settle the issue, Kyouken-chan.” Oikawa’s voice was stern. “I said for all of you to not do anything stupid.”

“Killing Iwaizumi Hajime is not stupid. It's for the good of all Seijoh.”

“Putting us on police radar is idiocy!” Oikawa slammed his hands against the table and the noise resonated in the room. 

“It's a pity.” Oikawa said as he leaned forward to pull open a drawer. “Your faith in Seijoh is misplaced.”

“Maybe if you weren't high on those fucking drugs all the time.” Kyoutani said through gritted teeth. “I didn't think you meant it, by letting that traitor scoot free! You never intended for that! It was the drugs, those fucking painkillers or whatever you say they are! I'm making sure you won't regret! I didn't do nothin’ you wouldn't on a rat.”

Even Kyoutani thought he was misusing his morphine prescription. 

Oikawa took a long drink from his glass. If this was Oikawa before Hajime, perhaps, he would have slaughtered them all. But things were different now. Right? Superficially, nothing seemed to have changed, yet the burden Oikawa bore felt heavier on his shoulders. 

His hand snaked around his right knee, massaging his leg through the brace. Kyoutani’s eyes followed. 

“Such a waste.” Oikawa said. “You're one of my best, Kyouken-chan.”

He pulled open a drawer and removed a sharpened blade from within. “Keep up with this, and soon, you won't be anywhere near good enough.” Oikawa stood up and pointed the sharp end of the blade at the desk. “Hand. On the table. It's about time that I have to personally teach you to respect your _kumicho _and their orders.”

When Kyoutani left Oikawa’s office, slightly hunched over and with his hands tucked close to his chest, the first thing that caught the attention of Yabaha was the bloodied contents in a transparent ziplock wedged in Kyoutani’s fists. 

One and a half fingers were cleanly cut off at their joints. Oikawa only took one swing to hit the exact precision. 

“I can see very clearly, Kyouken-chan, the outcome of what my decisions made can and will do to Seijoh in the bigger picture.”

Oikawa walked through the twisting walls to the club. It was closed for the night, so nobody should be there. Oikawa wasn't sure if he was disappointed that he would be walking into yet another empty room. 

It was the same walkway that he had walked through all these years, but none had felt this long. Oikawa wasn't sure if it just felt that way because of his leg. 

He was glad that he was still neatly dressed in his suit, although the first few buttons had been popped. Because at the table in the middle of the lifeless club, sat Hanamaki and Matsukawa in their casual clothes. They had seen him in worse, but as their boss, he had an image to uphold all the time. 

Mattsun saw him first, he beamed at Oikawa and Makki simply turned around and gave him a nod. 

“I know we literally live on the same premises,” Mattsun said, “but I felt like I haven't seen you in a long time.”

“Yeah.” Oikawa whispered. “Me too.”

Oikawa couldn't remember a time in the recent months - practically almost a year had passed since the Fukurodani incident - that he sat down and had a good laugh with Makki and Mattsun. Oikawa made a mental note to call Kuroo later, Yahaba only said that Kuroo gave Fukurodani a new leader before Oikawa sent him in search of Hajime. 

Fukurodani hadn't been his priority. 

“Want me to deal you in?” Mattsun shook his box of cards. “We could use one more player.”

“You never asked me to join you before.” Oikawa squinted his eyes in suspicion, but sat down anyways. “What, taking pity on me?”

There was no malice in his voice, only teasing. Yet, Oikawa felt the shift in tension around the room, as if confirming his statement. 

“No cheating.” Makki reminded before he played his card. 

Oikawa smiled. 

Oikawa had made it a habit to join Hanamaki and Matsukawa in the empty club almost on a daily basis. Sometimes, they played cards, sometimes they talked about crappy stories and laughed at jokes; Oikawa clutched his stomach as he very nearly toppled over from laughing, Mattsun even wiped a tear from his eyes from laughing so hard. “So,” Makki continued with his story, mischief gleaming in his eyes. “There I was, trying to catch my breath, and the next second-”

Oikawa could only wished the conversation with Kuroo went just as well. 

“I meant what I said.” Oikawa said. “I want half of Fukurodani. After all, Seijoh was the one who shut down Fukurodani. It's only right that we claim their territory.”

There was silence on the end of the line. If it wasn't for Kuroo’s heavy breathing, Oikawa would have thought Kuroo hung up on him. 

“I have told you, Fukurodani has a new leader. The Fukurodani empire has not fallen and will not fall in the near future.” Kuroo explained. “The decision was made on consensus of all major Syndicates.”

“Except Seijoh.”

“I heard that you weren't available.”

“I could have sent a representative.”

“Look, Oikawa.” Kuroo said. “You told me that you were just going to talk. The shootings at Fukurodani attracted too many cops. We were all treading very lightly until the situation died down. Do you know how troublesome that was? Not only for Nekoma. Shiratorizawa even had to go quiet for a couple of months. Needless to say, Seijoh was definitely on the police radar.”

“It wasn't my fault Onishi decided to shoot me! Fucking Hajime went in _unarmed_! It could have been worse.” Oikawa’s nose flared as he raised his voice. “I thought we were friends.”

“Nothing has changed between us, or our triads, Oikawa. The current deposition is best for all of us, should the Tokyo Underground system still exist. Seijoh would be unharmed, as would the rest of us.”

Oikawa gritted his teeth so hard that his jaw hurts. “It was good talking to you Kuroo.” 

"Wait!" 

Oikawa put the phone back against his ear. "What?!" 

"Fukurodani deals with gambling now, if you would let them set up a few dens in Seijoh's territory, you can get a split of the profit."

"No." 

"Oikawa, listen. If you're mad about-"

"I'll think about it ok?!" Oikawa didn't wait for a reply before he hung up and slammed his phone against the table.

Oikawa knew that Kuroo already uncovered the truth about Hajime. Kuroo knew that Hajime was police and the Yakuza didn't deal with police. Keeping information from Seijoh brought out the same intention as “don't tell the cops”. 

This time, Oikawa knew he didn't overthink matters. Nekoma’s specialty was information after all. It was only obvious that they'd be the first, if Oikawa wasn't, to know. 

Fucking Hajime. Fuck the Tokyo Police. 

Oikawa poured out the contents of his pill bottle onto the empty club table, and proceeded to crushing them with force. There were only a couple of pills left having forgotten to fill it up earlier. Oikawa didn't care that some had spilled onto the floor from the sheer force of his crushing, nor did he even notice Hanamaki and Matsukawa enter the room for their regular nightly hangouts. 

Oikawa scooped up as much poorly crushed powder as he could in his palms and emptied the contents into his mouth. His eyes rolled back, eyelids closing partially as he chewed slowly on the drugs. At least, something was helping him cope. 

Oikawa didn't know if be meant coping with the pain or stress. It didn't matter. 

When he sighed, in mild frustration, and opened his eyes, Mattsun and Makki were already seated opposite him. He forced a smile before brushing the leftover powdered drugs from the table into his drink. 

“Didn't hear you come in.” 

“Boss.” Mattsun’s eyes were focused on Oikawa’s face. Makki, on the other hand, was glancing between the empty pill bottle and Oikawa’s metal knee brace. “How's the brace?”

“Ah, this old thing?” Oikawa massaged around his knee as he spoke softly. “It's tolerable despite the way the hinges dig into my leg. Mizoguchi says that I'll be getting a new one sometime this week. It'll be a smaller model, since I don't require that much support from this chunky one anymore.”

Makki watched Oikawa harden his face to be devoid of emotions. Oikawa hated to show his vulnerability, which made absolute sense given that he was a leader of one of the most feared Yakuza in Tokyo. Vulnerability meant exploitation that could lead up to death and Oikawa was too young to die. 

Yet, every time he reached down to touch his right leg, Makki noticed that fleeting look of vulnerability. It made the ruthless, cold-hearted killer that Oikawa was infamous for, human. 

Oikawa was just another person. And it comforted Makki that Oikawa was not all lost. Perhaps they could do it after all. Hanamaki and Matsukawa intended to coax Oikawa out if his morphine addiction and they weren't sure if catching Oikawa in a bad mood on the very day they chose to confront him was a good idea. 

Oikawa doubled his morphine intake, if not more, when he was troubled. And that made him very temperamental afterwards.

“That's nice.” Mattsun said. 

“I hope it doesn't hurt as much as this.” Oikawa sighed. “Walking has never been such a chore! Man, have I ever took mobility for granted!”

Matsukawa chuckled and waved at his mutilated left ear. “You'll get used to it. I swear Makki whispers on this side to rile me up on purpose.” 

Hanamaki laughed and jabbed at Matsukawa, who fought back by pouncing on Makki to attack his abdomen. Both tumbled off the chair and landed on the floor with a loud thud followed by Oikawa’s hearty laughter. 

“Ahh, I'll miss this though.” Makki said, rubbing his arm that hit the floor. “When we head off to the den up South this Friday, who's gonna play cards with you?”

“Shut up Makki, I don't need a babysitter.” Oikawa drawled. “Besides, I'm pretty sure if I want it, I could play cards with anybody at anytime.” Oikawa stuck out his tongue at both of them in a tease. 

“That's true. But what you need,” Mattsun added. “Is a friend.”

“Or two.” Makki answered immediately and high-fived Mattsun. 

Oikawa’s large grin faded slowly. He tried not to think about it. Ever since he realized that Hajime had left, Oikawa tried not to think about it. 

But he did anyway. He thought about it almost all the time, and Oikawa was pissed at himself. Just not so long ago, a not very vague memory of Hajime calling him a friend with such passion in his voice made Oikawa’s heart skip a beat. 

Even now, when Oikawa thought of Hajime, the Hajime from Seijoh that he once knew, his chest would tighten. It might have been disappointment, or anger. But Oikawa knew it was none of that. 

For a while, he thought that they could be more than friends. 

And he thought that Hajime knew the difference. 

Oikawa reached out for the pill bottle and clicked his tongue irritably when he realized that it was empty. Oikawa gulped down his drink, nearly choking on it and fumbled through his coat pockets in desperate search for his painkillers. 

His right hand dropped to his thigh and began lightly clawing above the brace as his search became slightly frantic. He checked the pill bottle on the table again for good measure. 

“Oikawa?” asked Makki. 

He pinched his nose with his free hand and leaned back onto the chair, his jaw clamped shut. A thin layer of sweat began to form and Oikawa tried to conceal a sharp inhale. His right hand dug into his right thigh and he was leaning so far back that his back barely touched the chair. 

“Seems like I ran out.” The reply was breathless, and strained. 

“Is your knee acting up?” It seemed like Makki was asking the obvious, but Oikawa nodded his head anyways. 

“Oikawa, look at me.” Makki’s voice was gentle.

Oikawa opened his eyes to see Hanamaki clutching at the braces of his right leg. How could he not feel that before?! “Don't touch me!” He grunted. 

Makki let one hand go, the other still resting below Oikawa’s brace and handed him one pill. “Take this.”

“It's not enough.” Oikawa hissed. 

Mattsun took the pill from Makki and dropped it in Oikawa’s mouth. Oikawa bit down once and swallowed the whole pill. 

“Still hurts though.” He said after a short while. His face was slightly flushed and his suit was damp from perspiration. 

“No it doesn't.” Makki said as a matter of factly. “You shouldn't feel that intensity of pain at this stage of recovery, Oikawa.”

“Well, it _shouldn't_. But I felt it okay?” Oikawa spat. “The little fucker’s been acting up a lot. Can't help it.”

Makki looked at Mattsun who stood on Oikawa’s left. Matsukawa simply shifted his feet. Clearly they wanted to say something. 

“Well?” Oikawa was getting impatient. For one, no matter how much he'd enjoyed the company of Hanamaki and Matsukawa, Oikawa was snappier by each additional second he couldn't bolt into his office to grab more painkillers. And second, the dawdling between them was starting to get on his nerves. Hanamaki and Matsukawa were a lively bunch, they didn't _dawdle._

“You should stop with your morphine intake. ” Mattsun said. “The pain, it's all in your head. Well maybe not all of them, probably just the worst ones.”

Oikawa frowned at that statement and was ready to lash out until he felt soft touches along his right leg. 

Makki still hadn't removed his hand. As his fingers ghosted directly above his knee, Oikawa hissed and pulled away. 

The gears in his head clicked into one massive headache. Because Oikawa understood one thing. 

He was truly fucked. 

The pain came when Hanamaki touched him. Sure, it was already a dull ache before that. But, Hanamaki had been touching his leg before that. Right? He wasn't sure. 

“It's the addiction messing with you.” Makki said. He didn't move from Oikawa’s side until he saw Oikawa turned away from him. Slowly, he made his way to his seat opposite Oikawa. 

“It's not addiction if-” Oikawa cut himself short. 

“If it's for the pain.” Mattsun finished for him. “That's true.”

Oikawa was terrified in that fleeting moment Hanamaki and Matsukawa said with so much conviction together, “But is it?” 

The question struck many chords. Was it for the pain? 

_Of course. Right? _

Was it excusable to indulge in morphine for that reason? 

_Y-yes? _

Oikawa could hear the unspoken question that lingered, “Is it the pain from your leg that bothers you, or is it losing in front of Fukurodani’s dead leader, or is it admitting that you fell for the wrong person?”

Oikawa let out a shaky breath. “Are you questioning my potential?”

_Insecurity. _

The once confident demeanor broke slightly. Had Matsukawa and Hanamaki both thought that he had his head buried too fucking high on fucking painkillers that he couldn't make a sound order? 

“I thought the lesson with Kyoutani was enough to make my point.” This time, his voice didn't break. Instead, they were laced with disappointment and coldness. 

“When I first joined Seijoh, you gave me drugs. Shaved off from the best. And I remember the euphoria since the first snort. Makes you forget things, unhappy things. But you told me that using once in a while isn't a problem.” Matsukawa reminisced. “Oikawa, I don't want to see you turn a deaf ear on your advice. Drugs rot your brain. It's an issue when you use too much.” 

Matsukawa’s words punched him hard in his gut and it took Oikawa more effort than he had liked to not turn over and grasp his abdomen. 

Oikawa gave everyone the same advice. Afterall, Seijoh ran the drug rings in Tokyo. Oikawa couldn't have his men high out of their fucking minds. It wasn't good for business. 

Oikawa gave _Hajime _the same advice. He hadn't seen him use since the few times Oikawa offered him. Even so, Hajime appeared reluctant to take those. 

His fingers tightened around his brace again. Oikawa tried not to think about Hajime. The pain always aggravated with thoughts of Hajime. 

He thought about him anyway.

Trying not to think about something was the same as thinking about it. 

Oikawa’s lips twitched and he unconsciously reached out to his pill bottle again.

He stopped before he could touch it. 

Mattsun was right. And to think Kuroo called Matsukawa and Hanamaki idiots. They were as good as advisors as Haji-

_Hajime was. _

Oikawa Tooru squeezed his eyes shut in acknowledgement that he was truly fucked. 

The sounds of cards being shuffled pulled Oikawa from his thoughts. 

“Nevermind the boring emotional stuff. You know that we're always on your side.” Hanamaki said with a smirk. “Poker?”

“Only if the bets include lots of drinking!” Matsukawa yelled as he hopped over the seats to grab alcohol. “You're such a loser when drunk.” 

“Says you!”

Matsukawa stuck out his tongue and sniggered. “I still have _that _photo, you know?”

“I swear to God Mattsun.” Makki’s face fell in horror and amusement. “_That_ was too long ago!”

“It's funny all the same!” 

And just like that, the once somber atmosphere was replaced with the usual nightly teasing. 

Oikawa spoke little that night. 

Matsukawa and Hanamaki left for the South drug factory two days after Kunimi and Kindaichi were sent to scope the North. That left the largest factory owned by Seijoh hidden well in amongst the cities in the West of Tokyo. For that, Oikawa appointed Yahaba and a couple of his underlings, together with Kyoutani to sniff out the unloyal from the West. 

They were scheduled to leave a day after Matsukawa and Hanamaki. That left Oikawa terribly shorthanded of elites. 

Oikawa was sprawled out on his bed as he stared at the white ceiling. He rolled his pill bottle in his left hand and uncapped it. Then he clicked it closed again. He had switched out for a smaller bottle, restricting him to only half the intended dosage. 

It didn't help if he kept coming back for refills. But at least he was forced to acknowledge the short intervals between each refill. 

That helped him a little bit. Hanamaki had been conscientious.

Oikawa sighed as he rolled over onto his stomach and stuffed his face into his pillow. He popped his pill bottle again. 

Reluctantly, he climbed out of bed and dragged his feet to the bathroom. He stared at himself in the mirror. 

Oikawa’s furrowed his brows so deep that his forehead wrinkled. His bottom lip protruded slightly from the pout working into his face as he leaned forward to examine his face. 

Oikawa couldn't recognize himself. 

Apart from his hair splaying outwards in three hundred ways, his cheeks had sunken in, showing his defined cheekbones and jawline. His eye bags were dark and drooping heavily on his pale face. Oikawa’s usually bright gemstone brown eyes were dull and red with strain. 

Nobody remembered the last time Oikawa’s eyes were lit and shining with emotions. 

Oikawa brushed the back of his hand on his nose and sniffed. Short coarse hair rubbed against his hand and Oikawa froze. 

He leaned so close to the mirror that it fogged with his breath. Oikawa clicked his tongue in annoyance. He had begun to grow a light stubble. 

It was too unbecoming. 

Oikawa lazily searched through his bathroom drawers for his razor. With shaky hands, he lathered the shaving cream across his chin and angled the blade for a shave. Except, his hands didn’t stop shaking. Oikawa clicked his tongue again and concentrated. 

Never would Oikawa thought that shaving could get him to break sweat. Yet, it did. 

“Fuck.” 

The harder he tried to concentrate, the worse his shake got. And with his crappy luck, Oikawa successfully nicked himself on the first try. 

Oikawa squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth. Despite the confident shell Oikawa wore in front of others, Oikawa never felt more vulnerable than he was now. And he absolutely hated that emotion. 

Oikawa flung the blade into the trash and roughly washed the foam from his face, wincing when he brushed against the fresh wound. He examined himself in the mirror again. He inhaled deeply to calm himself. 

Oikawa glanced over to the edge of the sink where he left his pill bottle. The urge to reach over and dump two morphine pills in his mouth was strong. 

Oikawa understood the rationality of addiction. His business thrived on it. Seijoh made millions out of the drug addicts and drug trades. The last thing Oikawa expected was to fall on deaf ears to his own advice. Subconsciously or not, the drug lord had became a druggie. 

Oikawa unclenched his balled fists and squirted a generous amount of hair gel into his palms before styling up his unkempt hair. When the excess dripped down his face, Oikawa merely wiped it off with his sleeves. 

He paused in his movements and took a whiff. Oikawa wondered how long since he last showered. Probably since Mattsun and Makki left a couple of weeks ago. Oikawa stripped off his clothes and rummaged from the pile beside his bed. He pulled out a pale blue long sleeved button up shirt and sniffed at it. 

It was better than the last one. Oikawa put that on and sprayed an insane amount of deodorant. If Makki was here, he’d definitely drag Oikawa’s moping ass into the shower. 

Thankfully for Oikawa’s ears, Hanamaki wasn't scheduled to return as of yet. Unfortunately for Oikawa’s psyche, his intention of breaking free of the invisible chain morphine had roped him into had failed miserably. 

In all honesty, Oikawa didn't think he tried too hard to kick the habit. The urges were too strong, and with his men gone, Oikawa had a lot of time to himself. 

That meant that Oikawa had too much time with his thoughts. And mostly, they were of Hajime. It was as if his knee devised a cruel plan for Oikawa to remember that traitor. Waking up without Hajime felt worse than waking up lame. Oikawa rather he died that night. Oikawa’s fingers ghosted above his new brace. His right leg never failed to hurt as much as it did that night a .45 caliber bullet lodged itself in his knee with memories of Hajime. 

Oikawa flung his pill bottle across the room. It hit the wall with a loud crack and the pills spilled onto the floor. It did nothing to help with the indignation fuelling within him. Oikawa dragged himself into his office and called for Watari. 

Watari knocked at his door before entering. “Boss?”

“Watachi, I want you to buy all the milk bread available from that bakery a few blocks down.” Oikawa said with a serious tone. “All of them. You understand?”

“U-uh. Yes boss!” 

If Oikawa wanted to kick his morphine addiction, he needed sustenance. A lot of sustenance.

_Day one._

He hadn’t taken a pill for ten hours and Oikawa was curled beneath his covers and sweating profusely. Each minute ticked by excruciatingly. He breathed heavily, his fingers clenching and unclenching with each breath. He was freezing but his skin burned to his bones. Oikawa glanced over at the unopened pill bottle. Perhaps, just one pill… _No._ Oikawa clutched his stomach to ease his nausea. 

_Day two. _

Oikawa’s appetite didn’t improve, not even with his favourite milk bread in his hands. If anything, it made his nausea worse. Oikawa didn’t sleep the previous night. Usually, a sleepless night did nothing to tire him out. During major operations, Oikawa could stay up for nights without any impairment of judgement. 

Right now, Oikawa’s head was a pin drop away from exploding. His eyes hurt regardless they were open or closed. And even with the milk bread clutched in his hands, Oikawa’s unfocused gaze lingered at the foot of his bed where he threw the morphine pills from his reach last night. 

_Day thr- zero. _

Oikawa lost to his inner demon. Oikawa hated himself when he reached over the bed to grab the pills. He didn't want to. His body hurt, his leg ached, and the voice in his head that took the form of Hajime’s deep, gruff voice told him that he'd be better if he just took one pill. Just one, and everything would go away. 

Oikawa kicked the bottle away with his thoughts and cowered in the corner of his room. He wiped the tears threatening to fall from his eyes. 

When he opened his clenched fists, Oikawa gasped in shock. In his palm nestled a solid white pill. _Morphine._ He didn't know how it got there. He swore that he kicked the bottle far from reach! There shouldn't be any in his hands! 

Oikawa tried to throw that away too. 

He didn't. 

It was just one pill right? 

_Day one. _

Oikawa decided to start over. It'd been three days since he started using again. Hanamaki called to report the completion of his job. 

There were only two members in the South factory that stole from Oikawa occasionally. They were dealt with immediately. Hanamaki didn't find any suspicious mix of drugs or other potential threats to the production there. The stomach dissolving cocktail was definitely not from here. Hanamaki and Matsukawa would depart for Aoba Johsai shortly. 

That gave Oikawa a few short days to kick his morphine abuse. A few short days so that Hanamaki and Matsukawa wouldn't see how pathetic he was. Afterall, the symptoms were only supposed to last for a week, right? 

It was only seven days. 

Seven long, grueling days. 

Oikawa could do this. 

_Day three. _

Oikawa bit into his pillow to muffle a scream. It came out weak. His body convulsed in retaliation from the lack of drugs and Oikawa curled up tighter in his bed to keep away the physical pain. His left leg was tucked under him, his right splayed out and his arms were wrapped around his abdomen as his face fell flat into the pillow in front of him. 

There was not one comfortable position Oikawa could lay in and to say the pain was unbearable was an understatement. 

It was excruciating. And Oikawa didn't mean his leg. 

If Oikawa cried that night, no one had to know. 

_Day five. _

The most minimal functionality of a human being. That was the state Oikawa was in. It was as if the auto pilot switch in his head had been switched on. 

Oikawa didn't talk, or express any emotions. He simple idled in his bed or went to the bathroom. His lifeless face could easily pass him as a human Android. 

That was all Oikawa was that day. 

If Oikawa wasn't so drained of energy from his inner battle, he would have acknowledged that at least he was walking today. Yesterday, he'd crapped his pants. 

_Day seven. _

Oikawa smiled as the cool water splashed against his face. He lathered his hair with an obnoxious amount of shampoo to rid of the grease and sighed in contentment as he scrubbed it in. 

When Oikawa fell asleep last night, his excitement woke him up initially. Because falling asleep was something he had missed since he started the detox. Passing out didn't count. 

There were no dreams, only quietness and pitch black. It was the best night’s sleep for a long time. 

Oikawa took his time in the shower, scrubbing every inch of his body. He lost weight, and his ribs were slightly pronounced as compared to before, but when his stomach rumbled in complain of the lack of food, Oikawa couldn't help but chuckle. 

He would be getting Mattsun and Makki to feast with him for as long as he wanted now that his appetite was back. At the thought of food, Oikawa’s stomach rumbled once more. 

He checked himself in the mirror. He attempted to shave once more. 

_Day eight. _

Oikawa decided to leave his room. Hanamaki and Matsukawa were due to return, and Oikawa wanted to receive them. He put on fresh clothes, raked his fingers through his hair for good measure, and left his room into his office. 

The door swung open and his hand fell from the handle in mild shock. Then he smiled. 

“About good time, boss!”

Hanamaki and Matsukawa were there to receive him instead. 

“How long have you been back?” 

“About two days now. We've been waiting forever!” Hanamaki teased. 

“We had to sit all the way here.” Matsukawa dragged on the ‘all’ as he pointed at the far end of Oikawa’s office. “To tune out those horrible groaning and retching and all those disgusting noises.”

“Didn't help one bit though. You sounded like you're fighting a dying whale.” Makki deadpanned. “Or you were the dying whale.”

Oikawa froze to the spot. Had he been that loud? But two days ago felt like forever. Oikawa was probably curled up in the corner of his room or around the toilet bowl. 

“Look at his face!” Hanamaki laughed. “We should have taken a photo!”

“Wipe that constipated look off you.” Matsukawa slapped Hanamaki shoulder to stifle a laugh. “We're joking! Makki and I literally just sat down when you opened your door.”

“Don't you ever do that again.”Oikawa’s shoulders slumped as he sighed. “It's not funny.”

“It is to me, and that's enough reason.” Hanamaki said. 

“Makki,” Oikawa said with all seriousness. “Shut up.” 

Hanamaki simply laughed and Oikawa failed to maintain his composure; the tip of his lips curled upwards in a smile. 

Oikawa was far too relieved to see Hanamaki and Matsukawa, especially after the most torturous two weeks of his life. 

“We bought you souvenirs.” said Matsukawa. He handed over a bag to Oikawa. It was small enough to hold with one hand and light. 

Oikawa took the box out of the bag and opened it. Instantly, the heavy scent of something sugary and sweet hit his nose. 

“Profiteroles?” asked Oikawa. 

“Only from the best!” Hanamaki replied with a large grin. 

“I managed to save the last box for you.” said Matsukawa as he slapped the back of Hanamaki’s head for emphasis. “This monster ate them all! It's a miracle we still have one box left.”

“Profiteroles are… alright.” Oikawa tilted his head in thought. “Although milk bread is better.”

“No comments until you eat those!” said Hanamaki. “Besides, I heard that milk bread was all you had these few days. You must be sick of it.”

“Was not! And I can never be sick of milk bread.” Oikawa stuck his tongue out. 

“With you, anything is possible.” 

“Enough,” Matsukawa said with an exasperated sigh. He pushed Oikawa to his desk and gestured for him to sit. “Just eat already!”

The profiteroles, as Makki had mentioned, were indeed the best Oikawa had eaten. Oikawa wasn't going to tell him that. 

Six weeks later, Kindaichi and Kunimi returned. 

They returned mostly unscathed and handled the situation well. The traitors from the North factory had been eliminated, and there shouldn't be any problem in the near future. 

Oikawa didn't doubt their abilities. After all, this was his group of elites, and they were only the best. 

Ten weeks later, however, spoke differently. Yahaba returned with a few men, and they looked like they arrived from a trip to Hell. 

Aside from superficial wounds, there were no long lasting injury Yahaba should worry about. 

“We lost a few men.” 

They were in Oikawa’s office. Yahaba was patched up and seated across Oikawa’s desk. Watari, Kindaichi, Kunimi, Hanamaki and Matsukawa were scattered in the room. Oikawa paid them no mind. 

“What happened up West?” Oikawa’s gaze was sharp and collected, as if he was forcefully piercing his way through Yahaba’s memories to find his answer. 

“There were snitches and they put up a great fight. Some of our men didn't make it, but we managed to contain them all. Kyoutani took delight in ending them. I did too. We were careful about the noises, until-” Yahbaba stopped to think. 

His gaze met Oikawa’s probing ones. 

“Kyoutani was particularly angry with one of them. He orchestrated the whole thing! He was the one replacing the stolen drugs with those crappy stuff. When he begged for his life, Kyoutani lost it. You know how Kyoutani is.”

Oikawa’s brows furrowed. “You were supposed to handle him.”

“It was my fault, I should have stepped in! The next thing we knew, the fucking Police were after us. They caught some of us.” Yahbaba paused to wipe the sweat from his forehead. 

“Kyoutani assaulted them to get them away from me. I was too slow. We should have ran together! I told him not to do it alone but he didn't listen. It was my fault. I stayed hidden for weeks, trying to find him. There was no news, I couldn't find him anywhere. My best bet is that he got detained by the Police. But, I'll need the system back here to know for sure.”

The room was filled with silence. Oikawa stood up from his seat and paced around Yahaba. When he stopped, the glare that Oikawa gave sent shivers to everyone in the room. 

Yahaba didn't avert his gaze. 

Oikawa raised his hand and backhanded Yahaba across his face so hard that he fell over. Yahaba inhaled deeply and bit back a cry. 

“Get up and get to work. I want the Mad Dog back.”

“Oikawa-san-”

“Don't let me repeat myself.” Oikawa interrupted. “Get out.”

Oikawa knew that Yahaba was eating at himself about Kyoutani's disappearance, which was one of the reasons he decided that it was punishment itself. Besides, Yahaba could focus on the search rather than waste valuable time recuperating from any physical punishments.

Oikawa didn't join Hanamaki and Matsukawa that night. Instead, he lounged in his office, twirling a pen in his right hand and his right leg propped up on his left knee. 

Although the club was bursting with life at the peak of the night, Oikawa’s office was silent. 

Tokyo was a big city. 

What were the chances that Kyoutani was retained by the same force that Hajime worked for? 

Oikawa knew that the odds of Kyoutani in the hands of Sawamura were high; he almost certain that if the Mad Dog was apprehended, Sawamura had him. Because they just had to be the largest division in Tokyo, and they handled the big shots, not to mention they had the largest interrogation facility. 

If Kyoutani was caught by other smaller Tokyo Police forces, Oikawa was sure they would transport him back to the large division conveniently situated a couple of streets from the Aoba Johsai night club. 

It would be a big problem though. With Kuroo unavailable, Oikawa was not going to grovel for rekindling friendships, Oikawa wasn't too sure what he would do to break Kyoutani out with as little losses to Seijoh as possible. 

It would be too difficult, especially under Sawamura’s watch. First, Oikawa needed to know if Kyoutani _was_ apprehended. 

Kyoutani was not in the Tokyo Police jailing system.

Oikawa didn’t know if he should be glad or worried. For one, no one knew of his whereabouts but at least he wasn’t locked up. Rabid dogs don’t do well in cages. Second, it wasn’t like Kyoutani to stay in hiding for that long. Yahaba said that he waited for weeks before heading back to Seijoh. 

It had been a month since Yahaba's return. 

Kyoutani was either severely injured, or dead. Or he could be another case of Iwaizumi Hajime. 

Oikawa tried not to think about the latter.His stomach lurched at the thought of Kyoutani's possible betrayal. Kyoutani’s loyalty was something to commend, Oikawa didn’t think he would turn on Seijoh like Hajime did, even if he was apprehended.

That meant, Kyoutani might very well be dead. 

Oikawa stretched his back, which was relieved with a pop, before heading up to the club. The floor was loud with music and screaming, but Oikawa heard none of it. 

He went straight to the bar and ordered one of his overly sweet cocktails and a glass of neat whiskey. Oikawa took a mouthful of his drink when a pair of hands clapped him across his back.

The alcohol burned the back of his throat as he coughed and glared at the two individuals that sat on either side of him.

"What are you doing here, sulking all by yourself?" said Hanamaki.

"I wasn't sulking! And were you two trying to kill me?!" Oikawa coughed again for good measure.

"Neh, you'll live. But this," Matsukawa reached out for the glass of whiskey and sniffed at it. "This nasty trash isn't your type of drink, boss."

"It isn't." Oikawa confirmed. "What are you guys doing here? I sent you out for some tasks, so, get out of my face already."

"About that," Hanamaki grinned. "All outstanding debt and profits have been collected from the Takuya household. All the boring paperwork to cash in the money to Seijoh, as always, are dumped on your desk."

"And our next run wouldn't be up for hounding until," Matsukawa checked his wrist where a watch would sit if he had one. "Fourteen hours later. So we've decided to come back and drag you from your self-induced despondency before you drown in it."

"I'm not depressed." Oikawa grumbled.

"Also, did we mention how great you look lately?" Matsukawa added.

"Uh, no? Bootlicking doesn't help." Oikawa smirked at his comment. "And great doesn't even cut it. I look fabulous."

"Nah, could be better." Hanamaki waved with his right hand, brushing off Oikawa's statement. "You know what can fix this?" 

Hanamaki jabbed at Oikawa's chest. "Food."

Oikawa scrunched up his nose and stuck his tongue out. "You're just jealous that I only need the most minimum maintenance to show my natural beauty."

"What are you?" Hanamaki snickered as reached over to ruffle Oikawa's hair, which was promptly stopped by Oikawa before he was halfway there. "A nine-year old competing for toys?"

"Come on then! We have fourteen hours to kill." said Hanamaki as he hopped off the chair. "Let's grab something to eat. I'm starving."

"Yeah yeah, it's your treat, boss." Matsukawa said as he nudged Oikawa off his seat. "Since we are doing you a favour."

"You guys are so full of shit." Oikawa chuckled. "You're about to drown in it."

If Oikawa noticed Matsukawa dump the whiskey over the counter during his exchange with Hanamaki, he said nothing.

Two months later marked Oikawa's sixth month from abstaining from morphine. Physiotherapy helped with distraction when he thought about popping one. Determination, however, was the biggest influence. Oikawa didn't look forward to going through the torturous seven days of withdrawal again anytime in this lifetime.

He heaved a heavy sigh of relief when Mizoguchi officially cleared Oikawa from morphine addiction. 

Oikawa also wanted clearance for the knee brace. Mizoguchi wasn't too keen on giving it to him. "I don't know what's all the fuss about." Oikawa complained. "My leg's just fine!"

Oikawa flexed his right leg slowly to prove his point. "It doesn't hurt anymore. Hell, I could probably run a marathon in this wrecked thing."

"And that's probably why Mizoguchi wanted to keep you in the brace for a couple of days longer." Hanamaki said casually. "You can be more reckless than you sound."

"It's always 'a few days more'!" A pout was working its way onto Oikawa's face. "It's totally fine."

"You just say that." Hanamaki mused. "But you're too stubborn."

"Coming from you," Oikawa raised his brow in amusement, "that doesn't feel as insulting as it should be."

Oikawa's phone rang, and he downed the rest of his drink before leaning back from the table to pick it up. 

The club was too loud for Hanamaki to hear the exchange. When Oikawa pulled his lips into a sharp sneer, he didn't know if it was good or bad news. Hanamaki downed his drink as well, prepared for what Oikawa was about to say to him.

"Makki." Oikawa's eyes narrowed and the sharp grin didn't drop. "Time to work."

New members, there were five of them. The youngest was nineteen, but none were older than twenty four. Oikawa set down the documents on his desk. 

"Their history is simple." Oikawa said with disinterest. "Nothing more than stealing from stores and using drugs. The typical delinquent behaviour." 

Oikawa glanced over to Yahaba. "Have them run a few more errands for you. Keep it simple. We need to see if they can pass our little test."

The test, as Oikawa mentioned, was put in place shortly before Yahaba's return from his last major operation. It was a simple test of loyalty. If they couldn't pass this, Oikawa doubted that they would thrive in Seijoh. This syndicate was, after all, solely built on loyalty and respect under Oikawa's lead. 

Only two had passed the assessment. The others were promptly disposed of. 

"So," Oikawa peered over this desk at the two members below. "Seijoh is a corporate organisation after all. And you have been hand selected to join the team."

The new members faces lit up. Oikawa maintained his cool composure. The new members couldn't tell yet, but the others in the room knew that mask. Oikawa's eyes were honed and his grin was far too wide to be friendly.

He was watching their every reaction, like a predator would do a prey. "Welcome to Seijoh, you will report to Yahaba, he'll groom the both of you. I expect great contributions from you two."

Oikawa didn't meet new or low ranking members often, or even at all. But after Hajime, he had to be careful. Yahaba would watch them, for now, they wouldn't be within the true ranks of Seijoh any time soon.

To say Oikawa was furious was an understatement. Now that he was sober, Oikawa's rage could melt down metals. Yet, he was unsure if all his anger was directed at Hajime. To say that Oikawa hadn't missed him would be a lie.

Hajime could live in Kyoto till he died of old age for all Oikawa cared. It didn't matter anymore, as long as he didn't see Hajime again.

He didn't know what he might do. He could throttle the man with his bare hands, and his heart thumped at the satisfaction of ridding the traitor. His stomach, however, lurched with nausea at the thought of _Hajime_, of all people, laying lifeless at his feet.

It was best that Oikawa never saw him again.

It was in his best interest that Oikawa never thought about him again.

For both Oikawa, and the traitor _Iwaizumi _Hajime.

The next month passed without major incidents. With the drug replacement case solved, the Police hadn't found anything lead that led up to Seijoh; even though they knew that Seijoh was behind the drug trades in Tokyo, the Police had never found enough to fold Seijoh and shut them down.

The search for Kyoutani remained fruitless and Oikawa stopped all active search for him lest they invite more unwanted attention to Seijoh. Until Kyoutani was found, Oikawa doubted that the tension amongst the high ranking members would subside.

All the smooth sailing ended when Matsukawa knocked on his door one night, six hours after having personally executed a low ranker that stirred up a commotion near the borders of Shiratorizawa. It was twelve minutes past ten. Oikawa didn't think he could forget the time.

_Iwaizumi Hajime_ had returned to the grounds of Aoba Johsai. Oikawa laughed. It was hollow, and filled with disbelief. "That's the funniest joke you said whole week." He would have said if he wasn't slightly ruffled with the thought that Hajime had truly returned.

Especially after he was determined to forget him for good.

Instead, he replied with "You're serious." It wasn't even a question. 

Matsukawa's tensed face was all the answer he needed. Mattsun and Makki were lined up at second place who wouldn't hesitate to shoot Hajime at point blank.

"And after all these time." Oikawa mumbled, his eyes turning cold and his lips drew into a line. "Send him in. Let's hear what the traitor has to say for himself."

Oikawa didn't hear the reply Matsukawa gave, but when the code to his door beeped and swung open, his gaze was only focused on the man standing a few steps behind Hanamaki and Matsukawa.

It wasn't a prank. _Iwaizumi Hajime returned to Seijoh_.

"Have a seat." He inclined his head for an indication for Hajime to enter.

Oikawa's hand burned from the grip of his gun earlier. It felt as though it was used seconds ago. Oikawa wasn't convinced that he wouldn't use it again in the next few minutes.

The very existential threat jeopardising the whole of Seijoh, of what Oikawa had built more so in these two years, stood only a few feet away at the end of his desk.

If Oikawa was being honest to himself, a gun would be more merciful to himself than it was to Hajime. 

And when he spoke, ache in his knee throbbed, reminding him of how weak he once was. Oikawa kept a clenched fist beneath his desk. He was not that person anymore.

"I like to think that after all these years, nothing can surprise me anymore." His voice carried no emotion, and the words delivered were cold. He smiled down sharply at Hajime. "And yet, here you are."

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, you made it to the end! Thank you for taking time to read this, if you like it, do leave a comment below! :)


End file.
